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1. 06:31 PM - FW: What was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?(MWH) (nico css)
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| Subject: | FW: What was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?(MWH) |
What was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?
Brian Shul, Retired SR-71 Pilot via Plane and Pilot Magazine.
As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the question
I'm most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can be assured of
hearing that question several times at any event I attend. It's an
interesting question, given the aircraft's proclivity for speed, but there
really isn't one number to give, as the jet would always give you a little
more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35 miles a minute.
Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most missions, and never wanted
to harm the plane in any way, we never let it run out to any limits of
temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot had his own individual "high"
speed that he saw at some point on some mission. I saw mine over Libya when
Khadafy fired two missiles my way, and max power was in order.
Let's just say that the plane truly loved speed and effortlessly took us to
Mach numbers we hadn't previously seen.
So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations,
someone asked, "what was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?"
This was a first.
After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never
shared before, and relayed the following.
I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England, with my back-seater,
Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron
Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted
across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the
English countryside had requested an SR-71 fly-past. The air cadet commander
there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating
moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No
problem, we were happy to do it. After a quick aerial refueling over the
North Sea, we proceeded to find the small airfield.
Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat,
and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic speeds, we
found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most
former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower
and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that
I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing. Nothing but trees as
far as I could see in the haze.
We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from 325 knots we
were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt
said we were practically over the field-yet; there was nothing in my
windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes
of picking up anything that looked like a field. Meanwhile, below, the cadet
commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to
get a prime view of the fly-past. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and
partial gray overcast.
Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us
but in the overcast and haze, I couldn't see it. The longer we continued to
peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the
awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying
career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges.
As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped
and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this
point we weren't really flying, but were falling in a slight bank.
Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of
flame (and what a joyous feeling that was) the aircraft fell into full view
of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that
morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as
the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the
infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as
some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass.
Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without
incident. We didn't say a word for those next 14 minutes.
After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was
reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the
commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 fly-past he had ever seen,
especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could
only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet's hats
were blown off and the sight of the plan form of the plane in full
afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable.
Walt and I both understood the concept of "breathtaking" very well that
morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low
approach.
As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight
suits, we just sat there-we hadn't spoken a word since "the pass."
Finally, Walter looked at me and said, "One hundred fifty-six knots. What
did you see?" Trying to find my voice, I stammered, "One hundred fifty-two."
We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, "Don't ever do that to me
again!"
And I never did.
A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer's
club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71
fly-past that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids
falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their
eyebrows.
Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands,
he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred.
Walt just shook his head and said, "It was probably just a routine low
approach; they're pretty impressive in that plane."
Impressive indeed.
Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day
that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories.
It's ironic that people are interested in how slow the world's fastest jet
can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it's always a good idea to keep
that cross-check up, and keep your Mach up, too.
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